The Pool party
by khollie
Summary: Why does Mark hate cleaning the pool?


The Pool Party

Mark stood on the edge of the pool staring down at it's sparkling surface. One of his many chores around the estate was keeping the pool clean and free of leaves and other debris. The water looked cool and inviting in the hot summer sun. Mark stopped moving the skimmer and stared down at one spot of reflective gold, his thoughts lost in another pool.

"Grab him!" the voice was surly and full of hate. A twelve year old Mark ran desperately out the door of his uncle's house, trying to get to the back yard and the alley beyond the fence. He could hear his aunt and uncle shouting to him to stop, but he ran faster. He knew that if he were caught, the beating that awaited him would kill him. The Kirks hated him just as they had hated his mother. In the two years that he had been forced to live with his mother's brother and sister-in-law, young Mark McCormick had prayed to join his mother in heaven every night.

After Donna McCormick's death, her son had been given to the only family who would take in her illegitimate child. Mark was reminded daily of his uncle's kindness, his aunt's sacrifices, and his unworthiness as a whore's issue. The child knew that the only reason they had agreed to accept him was the monthly benefits check the state sent to help pay for the boy's care. Instead of helping to clothe and feed Mark, the money went to buy beer, drugs, and pay for parties. Life had become a miserable survival game with Mark as the target for the blows and insults.

The young boy was skirting around the edge of the pool headed for the back fence when he was grabbed by the collar and thrown into the sparkling water. As he clawed his way to the surface, a skimming net poked his shoulder, pushing him back down into the water.

"Like to swim, dontcha boy?" came his uncle's drunken voice. "Thought it was great fun to spill water on the table dinna ya? Now you can take a proper swim." The net came down over Mark's head, holding him under the water.

Mark thrashed wildly, trying to get his head out of the water. He could swim, but panic was setting in and the water was cold. Again and again, he managed to get his head out of the water and take a breath, only to have the net come down over his head again and push him under. As his uncle held him there, the water distorted the sounds of anger and laughter. His strength ebbed away and Mark let go of the net, too weak to fight anymore.

Dimly, he heard another voice and was vaguely aware of movement. His world faded to black before he saw the young police officer jump into the water beside him.

"Hey! McCormick! You gonna finish that or just stare the bugs to death?"

Mark started, and spun around wildly. The net he was using slipped out of his hands and he reached for it, losing his balance and plunging into the water. Judge Hardcastle started to laugh at his young friend's clumsiness, then saw that Mark wasn't moving. Hardcastle jumped into the pool and quickly reached his unmoving body. He pushed Mark's face out of the water, seeing the bump and the stream of blood staining the water.

Grunting with the effort, Hardcastle got Mark to the steps at the shallow end of the pool, gathered him up like a child, and carried him out of the water before gently laying him on the warm concrete. He made sure that Mark was breathing before taking the few steps to the phone to call for help.

Two hours later, Hardcastle stepped through the curtain of the ER cubicle and looked at Mark's pale face. A square bandage covered the gash on his forehead though the scratches from the pool wall still remained across the bridge of his nose. Mark's eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping. The judge went over to the bedside and leaned close.

"Mark? You awake?" he asked softly, trying not to scare the young man.

"Yea, just resting. My head is killing me. What did the doc say?"

"Said you have a hard head. The x-rays didn't show a break or anything, but he says you gave yourself a concussion. Wants to keep you overnight to watch you." The judge couldn't keep the worry out of his tone despite his attempt to be his usual blustery self.

"Sorry about the trouble. I just can't do anything right. I can have my stuff packed in an hour and be out of your hair." Mark kept his eyes closed, his voice pain filled.

Hardcastle was shocked. He was expecting some of Mark's normal teasing or whining, but not this. This wasn't the ex-con, or the racer, or the daredevil ladies man that Milt was used too. Instead this voice belonged to a young child who was resigned to being an unwanted burden.

Milt placed his hand over Mark's and leaned on the bed rail. "What kind of nonsense is that? You're not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, remember?"

"That's what my uncle said too. Then he tried to kill me." Mark's voice was flat.

"I don't want you to go anywhere, Mark." Hardcastle's voice took on a serious and caring tone. "You aren't in trouble, and I don't blame you for anything. You had an accident, that's all. Doc says I can take you home in the morning."

Mark opened his eyes and searched the judge's face. Instead of the loathing he expected, he saw the worry and concern in Milt's eyes. "You mean that?" Again, it was the child who asked, not the strong young man he had become.

"Of course I mean that. I asked you come and stay didn't I? Twisted your arm trying to convince you that I wanted you?"

A shadow of a smile crept across the patient's face. "I think it was blackmail actually."

"Now, you're cooking. You just rest, we'll go home tomorrow, and you won't have to clean the pool for a whole week." Hardcastle meant for the remark to be a joke, but he wasn't prepared for the look of terror that passed over Mark's face. "What is it? You okay? Should I get the doc?"

"No." Mark grasped Milt's hand tightly. "It's okay, I'll clean the pool. I just have a bit of a hang-up. I hate pools. That's why I never get in."

"But you go swimming at the lake when we go camping." the judge's statement was more of a question.

"I didn't drown in a lake. My uncle drowned me in his backyard pool." Mark's statement was flat and hard.

"What!" Hardcastle felt his anger flair at the man who had nearly killed his young friend.

"I was twelve..." Mark began.

"So when the neighbor heard the shouting, she called the cops. They got there just in time to pull me out of the pool and get me breathing again. By the time I got out of the hospital, my uncle was in jail and I went to a foster family, my first one. I kinda got bounced around after that." Mark finished.

"What happened to your uncle?"

"He went to prison for attempted murder and his wife was jailed for child abuse. I heard that Uncle Curtis died of an OD while he was inside. I have no idea what ever happened to her."

Mark rubbed the side of his head and was about to add more when the nurse entered the cubicle.

"Time for a ride. We finally got you a room for the night. You'll be in 412. The orderly will be down in a moment to take you up." Handing a sheaf of papers to Hardcastle, she continued. "You can pick your son up in the morning. Here are a list of things you'll need to watch for in the next week or so. He'll need to take it easy, no driving for a couple of days, the usual." She bounced out again before either man could get a word in.

"Well, I'll just stay with ya till they get ya all fixed up in your room." Hardcastle let go of Mark's hand and was about to look for a chair when an orderly came in to transfer Mark to his room. As Mark was wheeled out, Hardcastle followed along behind, knowing that he wouldn't be leaving his young friend for the night to face his demons alone. He also made a mental note to check into a pool cleaning service for next few months.


End file.
